Transgendered Past
by Blunz
Summary: Have you ever wondered what the Friends cast would have been like if they had been friends as teenagers? And opposite genders? Probably not. I have, however. The Friends take their own story here, but I will make some references to events from the show.
1. Chapter One

_This story will probably seem a bit confusing and odd at first, but I'm hoping that within the first few chapters, it'll begin to make some sense. I'll start off with a bit of back story._

_There are the six main characters in this story, as in the show. However, they're teenagers. And, to make it just that much stranger, they're the opposite genders. We're still working with three girls and three boys here. It'll just be bit different._

_This story takes place in New York, just like the show. However, the story is set in the modern year of 2013, around early April._

* * *

Chandler "Chandie" Bing opened the door to the pizza palace, where she and her friends loved to hang out almost every day. She entered, and just before the door could close, a breeze blew through the entrance and wisped at her dark brown hair.

It sure was windy this season. She had almost lost her baseball cap to the wind earlier that week. It wouldn't have mattered anyway. Some bullies had taken it from her just the next day. Just a bunch of mean girls, they were. They had made fun of her for having a baseball cap, saying that she was secretly a guy, that girls don't wear baseball caps. Chandie knew they were just a bunch of mean, immature teenagers. She knew she was a bit tom-boyish, but why did those bullies care?

Chandie refused to let this ruin her week, however. She was going to have a good week, a good birthday week with her friends. She would be having a birthday party. Her five best friends were going to be there. Her best friend from middle school, Rose Geller, had a brother named Monty who seemed to have been born a party-planner. If it weren't for those two, Chandie wasn't sure she would have any friends today. Monty's elementary school best friend, Richie Green, and a friend they had made in middle school, Phoenix Buffay, were both among Chandie's closest friends. Monty, Rose, Phoenix, Richie, Chandie's newest friend Zoey, and Chandie herself had become a sort of group, hanging out nearly every day, almost always at the pizza palace.

She was there now, waiting for her friends to come. It was a fairly relaxed place, filled mostly with teenagers and other kids a little older or younger than her. The place seemed almost like a cross between a living room and a restaurant. Chandie walked over to a big green sofa in the middle of the room and sat.

She soon heard the sound of the door opening and felt the chill of wind rushing in. In through the now opened door came Rose, Monty, and Richie. They all knew where to go. The group always sat on, around, or near the big green sofa. Monty sat on the cushion next to Chandie, which she was glad about. She wasn't entirely sure why. Rose sat on the other side of her, and Richie found a seat in a nearby chair.

"Happy almost birthday," Monty said, being the first to speak.

"Happy birthday eve eve eve," Richie mused.

Chandie rolled her eyes. "Thanks," she said almost sarcastically, though she _did_ mean it. "It _is_ exciting though. I can't wait, to be honest. I'm going to be sixteen!"

"You're _so_ old," Monty teased lightly, making Chandie laugh.

The others decided to join in. "Like, ancient," Richie continued.

"You're, like, practically a fossil," Rose said. "You should be fossilized."

Chandie laughed, knowing they were only joking because they were all still fifteen and would be for a while. They were the three youngsters of the group. Phoenix and Zoey were both already sixteen. "Well, in comparison, you guys are like babies," she pointed out. "Go back to your cribs, you babies."

"Your jokes suck," Richie said teasingly.

"I'm working on 'em," Chandie said. "I'm hoping that maybe if I tell a bunch of crappy jokes now, they'll all be out of my brain, and by the time I'm an adult, I won't think of them anymore. Instead, I'll be the funniest person in the world. Yes, in the _world_."

Her three friends laughed just as the pizza palace's door opened once again, letting in yet another burst of wind. In came Zoey and Phoenix. Now the whole group was together. They found seats in chairs near the sofa and quickly joined the conversation.

"What're we talking about?" Zoey asked. "Does it involve food?"

Chandie rolled her eyes. "I'll go order us a pizza."

"That's a true friend, right there," Zoey said, gesturing with her hand toward Chandie.

Chandie laughed as she approached the white-haired girl at the counter. She was also a teenager. The pizza palace only seemed to hire teenagers as a way to bring in more teenagers as costumers. After all, teenagers ate a _lot_ of pizza. The group of friends knew the girl fairly well due to how often they hung out at the pizza palace. They didn't talk to her much, but they did _enough_ to know that her name was Gunthilde, and they had even invited her one of Rachel's birthday parties. It had been a rather big party, so many minor friends had been invited as well as the six of them.

"We'll take one medium ch—"

"Large!" Zoey shouted, making Chandie laugh again.

She continued. "We'll take one _large_ cheese pizza."

"Is that for here or to go?" Gunthilde asked.

"Are you _kidding_?" Chandie asked.

"We're required to ask that," she replied with a smile.

"Oh. Well, in _that_ case, for here, just like every other day for the past . . . some number of years."

Gunthilde laughed. "Sorry. I don't make the rules." She turned into another room to go place the order and was soon back out. "It'll be about ten or fifteen minutes, just so you know."

"Oh, _we_ know," Chandie said.

"I know you know. We're just required—"

"—to say that," Chandie interrupted. "Yeah, I know _that_, too." Hearing Gunthilde laugh again made Chandie wonder if she was already getting funnier, her talent increasing by the minute. The thought made her smile.

"Anything else?" Gunthilde asked.

Chandie thought for a second, then ordered. "Six colas." After a momentary pause, she added, "Please." She smiled awkwardly.

"I see you're trying out your magic words," Gunthilde said as she grabbed a stack of cups and started filling them with soda. When all six were filled, she placed them on the counter.

Chandie turned around to face her friends. "A little help over here."

Monty and Zoey walked over, each grabbing two cups and bringing them back to the table. Chandie took two herself. When she made it back to her seat, she set one of the cups on the table in front of where Rose was sitting and took a sip from the other.

"Thanks for buying us pizza, Chandie," Zoey said with a smirk.

"_I'm_ paying for that?"

"You ordered it."

"Yeah, but, knowing from experience, you'll be eating about three-quarters of it," Chandie muttered.

"You know me so well," Zoey mused. "Oh, and aren't you, like, rich or something?"

"No. _Richie_ is Rich, if you want to give him a nickname," Chandie joked. After a few glares telling her that her joke was not so great, she gave up. "Fine. I'll pay for the darn pizza." There was a chorus of fake cheer from the other five. Chandie laughed. "Jeez. If I knew it meant so much to you guys . . ."

The group was chatting when Gunthilde brought a large cheese pizza over to where they were sitting and set it down in front of them. "That'll be fourteen fifty-two."

Chandie gave her the money. The conversations continued when she walked away. Chandie wasn't really participating in the chatter today. She would make a comment here and there, but she wasn't joking about each and every word that came out of her friends' mouths like she normally would. Her mind was somewhere else, thinking about the great bond the six of them shared.

It was amazing, how close they all were—closer than Chandie's own family. Her friends _were_ her family. She loved how different they all were. Taking any two from the group, she could find extreme similarities but, at the same time, extreme differences.

Rose was the smart nerdy one who got the good grades and had the boring stories. Chandie figured she was fairly smart as well, though she hoped her stories were more interesting. She was the joke-teller, whether or not people found her funny. Like she had explained to her friends, she was working on it. She _would_ be funny. She was determined.

Then there was Zoey. Not the brightest in the group, Chandie had to admit. Though, she did share several common interests with Chandie. They both liked the same shows, the same games, the same movies. It was a beautiful friendship they had. It was a beautiful friendship she had with all five of them—with Zoey, Rose, Monty, Richie, and Phoenix.

Just thinking of that last name reminded Chandie of how depressed Phoenix had been lately. Chandie knew there were complications going on with his family, and she felt bad. Sure, she didn't have the best family situation either. Her mom believed she was a man, and her dad worked for Playboy, but at least they still had money, like Zoey had mentioned. Phoenix's family was always struggling in that area, and he had even mentioned something about his parents being drug-dealers. Chandie had also heard plenty about how depressed Phoenix's dad was all the time. She would try to reassure him, saying everything would get better, that the depression would probably wear off, but it was hard, trying to get someone to believe something you didn't even believe yourself. Chandie could only hope for her friend that the depression wouldn't turn into something more.

* * *

_I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. I know it was a bit boring, just me trying to set up the story, but, I assure you, it will get more exciting later. It might just take a little while._

_I'm hoping that by the fourth or fifth chapter, I'll have the story going. I might throw in some Chandie/Monty, Rose/Richie, or even Zoey/Phoenix._

_Also, just so you guys know, Phoenix's depression will lead to something . . . interesting, to say the least. ;)_


	2. Chapter Two

_Thanks for the reviews! This is my first fanfiction, so it's nice to know that it's going well._

_Depressing chapter, coming your way—just so you guys know._

_This chapter doesn't have much dialogue for the majority of it. It's just a bunch of thought-filled paragraphs. There isn't much in the way of action either. I hope I still manage to keep you guys entertained._

_Again, this is only the second chapter, so it'll still be a bit boring for a little while. Just wait a few more chapters. It will get better._

* * *

Phoenix trudged solemnly out of the hospital, feeling distant and heartbroken. He couldn't believe how horrible he felt, how horribly this day was going for not only him, not only his father—his poor father—but also his friend, Chandie. It was her birthday today, and now Phoenix had to pretend that nothing had happened, that everything was just fine and dandy, that he wasn't ready to go curl up in a corner and die. He couldn't let himself ruin this day for his friend.

He had to face the truth, though: Chandie wasn't his greatest concern at the moment. He now had no parents to raise him, no home to stay in, no twin brother to share the horrible situation with, and he was truly alone—yet he was worried his buddy's party might not seem like quite as much fun because one of her guests couldn't bring himself to smile. He was seriously finding it hard to care. As selfish as it sounded, it was the truth. Or maybe it _didn't_ sound so selfish. Phoenix couldn't really tell.

In his haze of thought, he almost let a car crash into him. He realized he had walked right out in front of the speeding vehicle. It screeched to a stop mere feet away from him. Looking up in terror, he realized just how lucky he felt to be alive—how close to death he had just been. If that driver hadn't noticed Phoenix until a second later, or if Phoenix had stepped out into the road a second later, or if this, or if that, he wouldn't be alive right now. In that moment, he found a whole new meaning to life—to live. It wasn't just about survival. It was about parties and pizza and hanging out with friends. It was about enjoying each and every moment, because you never knew which moment would be your last. He had almost died, and if he had, he would have died depressed. He refused to let that happen.

He wasn't quite so worried about this at the moment, however, and was more focused on the fact that he had nowhere to stay and no family to take care of him. What was he going to do? His life was falling apart, ripping at the seams. Where was he to go now? He couldn't go back to his house. Child protective services—or whoever it was that took away the kids with parents who were either criminals or dead—could show up at his house any day now. Actually, he didn't know how long they took. For all he knew, they could be there right now, waiting for him.

He didn't want to be taken away, placed into some foster home or adopted by some junkie who would only be doing it for the cash. Right now, more than anything, he wished his step mom would be released from prison so she could take care of him. Well, as long as he was wishing for stuff, he really wished his father hadn't killed himself. He really wished he could at _least_ see him one last time, tell his father he loved him, say goodbye.

On some level, he was glad he didn't have the chance to do that. It would have been too hard. Though, it would have been nice for the man to at least leave his two sons a note. Instead, he was just _gone_. Here one second; gone the next. Like he'd never even existed in the first place.

Phoenix's mind once again drifted to the problem of having nowhere to go. He could stay at one of his friends' houses for a bit, but he knew their parents would tell those child protective services, and he would still get taken away.

It almost seemed as if a house in general was out of the question. Maybe he could get a job and rent an apartment. A _studio_ apartment. A _really cheap_ studio apartment.

He was figuring it out as he walked, not really knowing where he was headed. He soon decided to make his way to the pizza palace. Hopefully, at least _one_ of his friends would be there. There was a good chance of it.

That was the other conflicting decision going on within his mind: should he tell his friends or not? At first, he immediately thought of telling them, getting some emotional support. But _now_, he feared how they would react. Once again, he feared somebody telling the child protective services. If Phoenix told Monty, Rose, Richie, or Zoey, they would most likely wind up telling their parents, which would ultimately lead to Phoenix being taken away.

He suddenly saw the solution, laid out right in front of him. It now seemed so obvious, he felt like an idiot for having not figured it out hours earlier when he had first received the horrid call from the hospital that had started this mad turn of events in Phoenix's life.

He would tell Chandie.

He would tell Chandie, and _only_ Chandie. He would make sure she wouldn't tell the others. And, knowing Chandie, she _wouldn't_. Chandie always stayed quiet about others' secrets, no matter how horrible or how juicy they were. If she was told not to tell anybody, she wouldn't tell anybody.

Phoenix had once seen it as a flaw in her character. But _now_, she was thankful for it. Not only would Chandie not tell the other four—she would keep quiet from her parents as well. She had never seemed very close to her parents. She almost never talked about them, a common subject among average teenagers for the purpose of complaining. Phoenix never complained about his parents, though. He loved them and understood their actions. In his eyes, they never did anything wrong, even if society labeled them as "criminals" and "law-breakers." They had only done what they'd needed to survive. Phoenix couldn't find one complaint about either of them.

However, unlike Chandie, he still found time to talk about them. He loved talking about his great experiences with his father and step mother. Of course, after his step mother was thrown in prison, he didn't talk about her quite as much anymore.

That was only a couple weeks ago, so the impact of his father's suicide was just _that_ much worse. He had barely had time to recover from losing his step mom when he lost his father as well. Now, he would probably never see his twin brother again either. His brother would be heading home or would have already done so. He would be happy to be thrown into foster care and never have to see his brother Phoenix again.

Phoenix had never felt so alone. All he had left now were his friends. Those five—Monty, Rose, Zoey, Richie, and Chandie—were his _new_ family, whether he would be telling them _all_ or not.

Being in such deep thought made the walk seem to go by faster. He entered the pizza palace and took a quick look around. None of his friends were there. Barely _any_ customers were there. Phoenix looked up at the clock on the wall; it was almost five-thirty. At least nobody would be missing him back at home now. No rush.

The very thought of the home he grew up in—completely emptied out, barren—made him feel empty himself. He was thankful for how little people were in the pizza palace when a tear dripped from his eye and rolled down his cheek. He urged himself to stop, to not go any further with the tears. He had a party to attend to in less than an hour. Okay, there was _some_ rush, he admitted to himself. If he bawled his eyes out now, there wouldn't be enough time for him to recover before the party. He couldn't let his friends see him this way, especially Chandie. He couldn't ruin her party with _his_ life problems. Chandie had her _own_ problems. Both her parents were too busy to attend the party, and, despite her efforts to hide the fact, Phoenix could tell she was upset by it.

It was _this_ thought that finally pushed him over the edge. The tears poured from his eyes. His face reddened to a substantial degree. Now, he was _very_ thankful for nobody being around to see him like this, to see him looking so weak.

It was just then, in the middle of that thankfulness, when he heard the sound of the pizza palace's door opening, a gush of wind bursting in—intruding in on the warmth and coziness that was the pizza palace—and the close closing.

He heard footsteps getting closer. When they sounded to be only a foot or two away, his ears then picked up a familiar voice. "Hey, Phoen— Whoa, what's wrong?"

_Chandie_. Why did it have to be _Chandie_? Of all people, it was _Chandie_ who had to burst through that door and see him like this.

"Phoenix?" her sweet, soft voice asked. "What's wrong?"

Phoenix felt a cold hand on his shoulder. He quickly wiped his eyes and looked up at her, faking a smile. "Nothing. Everything's great. Happy birthday, Chan."

"Thanks, but . . . Phoenix . . . ?"

Her voice sounded so scared, so concerned, it actually hurt to hear it. "What? I'm fine. I'm just . . . I'm just really excited for you, turning _sixteen_! It's a big deal. You're one of us oldies now."

Chandie laughed, though it looked forced. "Phoenix, whatever's going on, you can tell me. Even if you don't want the others to know, you can still tell _me_. I won't tell them."

Phoenix wanted to yell, _scream_ at her that that was the plan. "Tomorrow," he muttered under his breath.

"What?" Chandie asked. "Sorry. I didn't hear you."

"_Tomorrow_. I'll tell you tomorrow."

"Okay," Chandie said, sounding almost defeated.

"What? _Okay_?" Phoenix asked, surprised that she had given in so easily.

"Yeah. _Okay_. You can tell me tomorrow." She quickly pulled Phoenix into a friendly hug. "But, whatever it is that's going on, hang in there. Just hang in there."

Phoenix smiled. "Come on. Let's go party."

* * *

_Okay, okay. The ending was a big weak. I know. Sorry about that. I was hoping for more of a surprise ending._

_There was one thing I was going to do that was supposed to be a big shocker, but I realized it didn't really fit in with this chapter. I'll have to squeeze it in the next chapter._

_Also, I know Phoenix seems very different from Phoebe's character and personality, but the reason why will be explained shortly. Don't worry. Crazy, fun, flaky Phoenix will arrive soon enough. ;)_


	3. Chapter Three

_Party time!_

_I'm hoping this chapter will be a little more exciting than the last. I think having the group together makes the story more fun. Chapter Two was mainly Phoenix sulking around alone, and I must admit that it managed to bore even me when I read it._

_There will also be something a little unexpected—even to me—near the end. The idea just kind of came to me. Once I had it in my mind, I couldn't resist. I was going to have this at the end of the last chapter, but it just didn't feel like the right time._

_Hope you guys enjoy!_

* * *

When Phoenix and Chandie entered Rose and Monty's house where the party was being held, they were immediately greeted by their friends. It was a jumble of happy birthday messages. In the middle of it all was one shouted word that made the other guests laugh.

"Surprise!" Zoey exclaimed. She had a goofy-looking birthday hat on that was tilted significantly to the left.

Chandie gave her friend a confused look, held it there for several long seconds.

"What?" Zoey asked finally.

"It's not much of a surprise, Zoe, when I helped _plan_ the party," Chandie remarked.

It took her a moment, but eventually Zoey _did_ seem to understand Chandie's point. "Oh. Right." She looked embarrassed. "I'm just . . . I'm gonna go get some sandwiches." With that, Zoey walked off to a table full of various snacks.

"Happy sweet sixteen, Chandie," Monty said.

"Thanks." She glanced behind her at the table. "Did you make all that food?"

"Yeah." He smiled proudly, proud of _himself_. Chandie figured it was only fair. It was a _surplus_ supply of food.

"Wow." She whistled in amazement. "That's a lot of food."

"Thanks. Go enjoy," he encouraged. "Happy birthday."

"Okay, um . . . You've said that at least three times now. You okay?" she mused.

Monty laughed. "Just go stuff yourself."

"'Kay!" Chandie ran over to the table to find all her favorites. Pizza, sandwiches, macaroni and cheese with cut-up hot dogs, chips and dip, sodas, juices—so much more. Anything Chandie could even _think_ of wanting, it was there. Her jaw dropped in pure exhilaration. It was so much to take in. So much food. So much.

Her mind was so absorbed in the appearance and smell—Oh, the smell!—of the snacks before her that the sudden voice behind her made her jump. "You like?"

Chandie spun around to face Monty. "Do I _like_ it? No, no. I _love_ it! I'm gettin' _so_ fat tonight."

Monty laughed. Chandie loved making him laugh. "Good. Here: I'll give you the tour. I bought chips, all kinds. Barbeque, sour cream and onion, regular—of course—and several others. Then there's your favorite: mac and cheese with cut up hot—"

"Yeah, I see," Chandie interrupted. "I think your job is over. You've done enough. Thank you for all of this. Enjoy the party. You did your part. Enjoy what you set in place."

"Thanks," Monty said, grabbing two plates from a stack at the near end of the table. She handed one to Chandie. "Let's fill ourselves up until we're full, and then watch a movie, and then eat some more." He smiled.

"And then watch _another_ movie, and then eat some _more_," Chandie added.

"I like the way you think, Chan," Monty said with a smirk. He began to fill his plate. Chandie followed suit.

They placed the various snacks on their plates as they walked down the long side of the table. When they made it about halfway to the other end, Chandie glanced behind her to see a sad sight. Phoenix was sitting on a couch, staring at the ground. He was all alone and looked sadder than Chandie had ever seen him. She was suddenly very much regretting letting him talk her into telling her _tomorrow_ about whatever horrible thing had happened to him. There was obviously something bothering him, and Chandie couldn't bear to watch her friend suffer.

"I'll be right back," she said quietly to Monty, setting her plate down on the table where she was standing. She knew it would probably bother Monty, having something so out of place smack dab in the middle of the buffet, but that wasn't her greatest concern at the moment.

She headed over to the couch and found a seat next to her friend. She placed a hand on his shoulder. His eyes moved their direction from the carpet below up to Chandie. "You okay?" she asked sweetly.

"No," he said in a low, distant voice. He went back to staring at his feet. "I'm ruining your party."

"Whatever's going on with you, I'm sure it's more important than some party."

"I just . . . I just wanted to let you have this one day be special. I mean, your parents didn't even come." He looked to be on the verge of tears. "I figured you at least deserved some friends to help you celebrate. It's your sweet sixteen. I just thought you deserved to have a good day. You're such a good person, and . . . and . . ." He seemed to be struggling to get more words out.

"Look, we can stop this party and redo it any other day," Chandie said. "Whatever terrible thing happened to you: you can't put that off. _I_ can't let you put it off. Please just—just tell me what's wrong."

There was a long pause, made to seem longer by Chandie's impatient brain. Finally, Phoenix spoke. "Come on." He stood up.

"Where are we going?" Chandie asked.

"Anywhere other than here. I don't want the others to overhear." He started looking around the house for the best place to go. After a few minutes of this search, Phoenix finally gave up. "Let's just go outside."

They decided to head out the back door. When they where outside, they sat on a two-person wooden bench. The anticipation was killing Chandie. What was Phoenix going to say? What had gone wrong? On some level, she didn't even want to know. She just knew that she _had_ to know for the sake of her friend. He needed comfort, and Chandie couldn't stand knowing that the boy had nobody to give him any at the moment.

Chandie stared at Phoenix, willing him to speak. She refused to redirect her gaze until the whole story was told. She waited, forcing herself to look patient. Inside, however, she was screaming at her friend to begin. She wanted so badly to know what was wrong.

Finally, Phoenix broke the silence. "It's a long story, and I should probably start from the very beginning."

Chandie nodded. Then, feeling like that wasn't enough, she spoke. "Go ahead." Her voice was quiet and filled with fear and anticipation. "I don't care how long it takes. I wanna hear the whole story."

Phoenix cleared his throat, though Chandie knew he was only stalling. "I know you guys don't know all that much about my family. You know we don't have much in the way of money, but there's more than that." His gaze drifted to Chandie's face, down to his feet, back up to Chandie, and finally settled on his feet once again. "My step mom . . . A couple weeks ago, she went to prison."

Chandie was taken aback by this statement. She gave her friend a pitying look and stroked his arm. "I'm so sorry."

"There's more," he said softly. "That's about the least of my problems."

Chandie thought of making some sarcastic comment such as "Well, this is fun," but she refrained from doing so. Instead, she stayed quiet and waited for her friend to continue.

"Earlier today, I got this phone call. It was . . . It was from the, uh, the hospital." His voice cracked with emotion. Chandie feared where this was headed. "My dad . . ."

Chandie could see he was struggling to finish. He didn't need to. She could figure out the rest. His father had passed away. How, Chandie had no idea. Though, that wasn't the main concern of the event.

Chandie was now at a loss for words. She could only imagine how terrible her friend must be feeling. He now had no parents. Where was he supposed to go from here?

As if he had been reading Chandie's mind, he continued. "Where am I going to stay? I have no mom, no dad, and no home. What do I do?" He finally allowed himself to spill a tear. Then another. Soon, they were pouring from his eyes like two identical waterfalls.

It broke Chandie's heart to see her friend like this. Phoenix had always seemed so strong. It sounded to Chandie that his life was falling apart. "You can stay at my house," she said quickly.

Phoenix suddenly looked up at her and wiped his eyes. "Really? You sure?"

"Yeah. We have . . . We're rich. We have, like, _twenty_ guest rooms."

Phoenix laughed. In the moment, it seemed to be the wonderful sound Chandie had heard in all her life. He had such a nice laugh. He didn't laugh often, but when he did, the sound of it made Chandie want to bottle it up and keep it for herself. It was just so lovely of a sound.

"Thanks, Chan," he said. Then, after some silence, he added in a significantly happier voice, "We're gonna be roomies!"

Now it was Chandie's turn to laugh. "We are, now, aren't we? This'll be interesting."

"Yeah," Phoenix agreed.

It was then that Chandie noticed she still had her hand on his arm. She was about to pull it away when she suddenly met Phoenix's gaze. They stared deeply into each other's eyes for several long seconds. Chandie noticed an odd look in Phoenix's deep lime green eyes. She couldn't quite place it at first.

It was when he leaned in until their lips touched that Chandie finally figured out what the look was.

* * *

_I suck at describing this kind of stuff. It's not like I really have the experience to know what I'm talking about._

_Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed. Reviews are much appreciated. They help me know how well I'm doing, what to keep, what to change, ect._

_Thank you guys for the current reviews, and I hope to see more in the future. ;)_


	4. Chapter Four

_Glad to hear you like it, Dizuz. Your review made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. ;)_

_More reviews would be nice though. One review per chapter from the same person every time . . . not all that satisfying, to be honest._

* * *

As soon as she felt Phoenix's lips touch hers, Chandie pulled away. Her eyes widened in shock. She had never been kissed before. Well, not by a _boy_, anyway. But that was a memory Chandie did _not_ want to dwell upon.

"Wha—wha—what was—? What?" she sputtered incomprehensibly.

Phoenix stared down at his shoes again. His face was red as a tomato. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. The expression on his face looked somewhere between embarrassment, deep depression, and pure exhilaration. "I just . . . I thought maybe you, uh . . . you . . ."

"I _what_?" Chandie asked, trying to remove the harsh tone from her voice, though it was still partially present.

"I don't know," Phoenix said, covering his face with his palms. He ran them down his face and dropped them by his sides. Finally looking up at Chandie, he continued. "Heat of the moment." He gave his friend an awkward smile. When the smile wasn't returned, Phoenix frowned. "I guess I just thought that maybe if I did something crazy . . . all my problems would seemingly . . . _disappear_."

"_Did_ you now?" Chandie asked, still in shock from the kiss.

"Look, Chan," Phoenix tried. "I've had a very bad day, as you can imagine. I don't know what I was thinking. Can we just forget this ever happened?"

Chandie sighed. She would _love_ to forget this ever happened. But was that even possible? "Sure," she agreed despite her thoughts.

"Thanks," Phoenix said with a smile. "Oh, and that kiss can be your birthday present. Since I forgot to get you anything." His smile turned to a smirk.

"_Please_ don't make jokes now," Chandie requested.

"Do you know how many times in the years that I've known you that I've wanted to tell you the exact same thing?"

Chandie laughed. "Let's just go back inside and . . . stuff ourselves," she said, quoting Monty.

"Sounds like a plan." Phoenix stood up. "I'm really sorry about kissing you, though. I know there's this thing going on between you and—"

Chandie stood up abruptly. "There's nothing going on with me and Monty," she snapped. "There wasn't, there isn't, and there never will be."

"Okay," Phoenix said doubtfully. "Whatever you say."

Chandie rolled her eyes. "Let's just go stuff ourselves," she said again, this time with slight irritability in her tone, as they reentered the house. As soon as they did, they were met up with Monty.

"Hey, where were you guys? They missed you in there, Chan," he said, smiling.

Phoenix rolled his eyes. "More like _you_ missed her," he muttered.

Chandie gave her friend a surprised, angry look. Luckily, Monty didn't seem to hear him. "Oh, uh, we were just, uh . . . talking," she spat out.

"Oh. Okay," Monty said. "Well, get in here. We're cutting the cake soon."

"Perfect timing," Chandie said. "I could use some cake right about now." She muttered the last part with a hint of frustration.

"Come on," Monty instructed, taking her hand in his and pulling her inside.

Chandie glanced back at an amused Phoenix. She whipped her head back around and now followed Monty willingly so it would seem less like the boy was dragging her.

When they entered the kitchen, Monty finally released his grip on Chandie's hand. She took another glanced at Phoenix. Things were going to be a bit awkward between them for a while, she knew that much. Especially with them living together. Maybe letting Phoenix move in with her wasn't the best idea.

No. She couldn't think like that. She was doing what she had to do to help her friend. It was the only option, as far as Chandie could see. She wondered if there was an alternative.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a chorus of happy birthday messages. Chandie decided to put off thoughts of Phoenix's situation and try to enjoy the rest of her party and whatever hours of birthday she had left.

"Where'd you run off to?" Richie asked.

"Nowhere," Chandie said quickly, maybe a little _too_ quickly.

Richie gave her a skeptical look. "Okay. Whatever." After a moment of silent confusion, he shouted an excited, "Let's cut the cake!"

"Good thing it's not a _cheese_cake," Chandie mused. Monty handed her a knife and a stack of six plates. Turning toward him, she asked, "We eating this whole thing?"

"Why not?" Monty said with a shrug.

Chandie smiled. It was rare to hear Monty say anything along the lines of "Why not?" He was not exactly the most laid-back, relaxed, spontaneous person Chandie had ever met. He had once yelled at her for leaving a crumpled-up ball of paper on the table next to him. Apparently, trash belonged in the _trash_can.

Chandie had never really minded such quirks, however. She knew it was just a result of his parents being so hard on him. No matter how bad her parents got, Chandie would always be thankful for how easy-going her mother and father could be. It managed to take quite a bit of stress off her shoulders. She could only imagine how tiresome it must be for Monty to constantly be trying to impress her parents, only for her older sister Rose to always be in the limelight. It almost made Chandie dislike Rose, though she knew it was not her friend's fault. Still, she felt bad for Monty.

Pushing the thought aside, Chandie used the knife to slice the cake in half. With two more cuts, she made six equal-sized slices. "Okay, so, I get five slices, and you guys can share the leftover one." When she didn't hear a single laugh, she frowned. "Crappy birthday to me." _That_ sparked some slight laughter, perking Chandie up a bit.

Monty took over at that point, placing each slice onto a plate and handing the plates to each of the five others and taking one for himself. Chandie thanked Monty when she received her plate. Zoey skipped right over being polite and almost literally dug into her slice, making Chandie laugh. Phoenix managed a smile as he took his slice, but Chandie could tell it was forced. She hoped she was the only one aware of the fact.

There was a hint of wonderment in her mind that thought maybe Phoenix was upset about her rejecting him, but she knew the boy had much bigger problems at the moment. Chandie wasn't to blame for his sadness. Knowing that somehow managed to make her feel a little better.

She wandered around for a bit, trying to decide where to sit. For some reason, the group decided it would be a terrible, stupid idea for them to all sit together. Chandie let out a frustrated sigh.

Rose was talking to Richie on the couch. Zoey was at the kitchen table alone, digging into his cake. Monty was standing and eating by the counter where Chandie had sliced the cake.

She was considering going over to eat with him when something caught her eye: Phoenix.

How had she forgotten about him? She noticed Zoey; she noticed Monty; she noticed Rose and Richie. How had she not noticed Phoenix, sitting all by himself, once again staring at his feet, not even touching his cake?

Chandie immediately stepped outside and headed back over to the bench where they had kissed. Phoenix was sitting there now. It made Chandie sad to see him like this. He seemed to be trying so hard to pretend, to make her birthday special, but alas he could not.

"You know, it's pretty chilly out here," Chandie said, trying her hand at small talk. "The wind could blow your cake away."

"I don't care about the cake." Phoenix's voice was so distant, so emotionless, Chandie wondered if she had imagined it.

She once again sat next to her friend, on the very same bench where, just minutes ago, they had . . .

Frankly, Chandie didn't want to think about it. She really wished she could just forget the kiss completely. It wasn't like it had been a _bad_ kiss—not that she really knew what a bad kiss _was_ considering it had been her first. It was just that if Chandie had to choose among her three male friends as to whom she would kiss, her choice would not have been Phoenix.

"Please don't sit here," Phoenix said, in the same monotone. "I just . . . I just feel like being alone right now."

"Okay," Chandie said softly, standing back up. "Sorry." She headed back inside, the warmth of the home like a blanket surrounding her. She was once again left with the decision of where to eat.

She didn't want to disturb Rose and Richie from their conversation considering they were the only ones actually talking to someone else. Zoey was too absorbed in his cake, which he had miraculously not finished yet despite his ever quickening eating pace. Phoenix obviously wanted nothing to do with her at the moment. That left only one choice. Phoenix would have laughed at her for deciding to eat with Monty if he were in a better mood at the moment. Chandie missed _that_Phoenix. Once again pushing all thoughts of the boy aside, she walked over to Monty.

"Hey, Monty," she greeted her friend casually, trying to hide her dismay at Phoenix's situation, trying to forget Phoenix completely.

"Oh, hi," he replied, smiling. "How's the cake?"

"Wonderful," she said.

"_Really_?"

Chandie could hear a bit of skepticism in his voice. "Yeah. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "Except the fact that you haven't taken a bite yet."

Chandie looked down at the plate in her hands. "Oh. Right." She picked up the fork, dug it into the cake, and shoved the bite into her mouth. She swallowed. "My god, Monty. That's _amazing_!"

He rolled his eyes, looking insulted. "Sure it is."

"No, really," Chandie defended. "It's the best cake I've ever tasted. You're an amazing chef." She smiled hopelessly.

"I bought it at Publix."

"Oh." Chandie stared down at her plate, avoiding eye-contact with Monty due to embarrassment. How could she possibly make the scene _more_ awkward? "Well, then, you're an amazing . . . cake-picker." _That_ was how, by saying _that_.

"You know what, Chandie?" Monty said in a much less harsh tone. "I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you're actually trying to give me a compliment in the words you're saying." He smiled.

Chandie returned the smile. "You see, I actually _knew_ this cake wasn't made by you because it's just not as good as anything of _yours_ I've ever tasted."

"Thanks," Monty said gratefully. "I know you're lying, but thanks."

Chandie laughed. "When will it be _my_ turn to be the funny one?"

Monty chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. "Chan, don't you see? You're already there."

* * *

_This was more of a filler chapter than anything. It's really only here to help lead into the next chapter. I just don't like having super long chapters or super long amounts of time between chapters._

_Sorry if Chapter Four was fairly boring. Chapter Five will be better, I assure you. ;)_


	5. Chapter Five

_Thanks for the review, Dizuz. Both your questions should be partially answered in this chapter. I don't want to give the answers outright, so I'll leave them both up for some level of assumption._

_Just so you guys know, posts will come much more frequently on the weekends than during the week. I may only have one or two chapters throughout the week, but on weekends, I may have one a day. This does not apply to every week, however. Some weeks, I may not be able to post anything at all due to various reasons such as being away from home or being without access to a computer._

_I'm hoping this chapter will be more exciting than the previous ones. I'm finally bringing in crazy, fun, flaky Phoenix, as I promised earlier._

* * *

Soon after the opening of presents, everybody had seemed to be getting tired and even a little bored of the party—Chandie included. Monty didn't mind, however. The party had lasted for a decent amount of time, and all fun affairs had to come to an end at some point.

Monty decided to begin the cleaning process. This was the fun part, though only _he_ understood why. He loved transforming a mess of a room into a spotless one. It was almost like his superpower, to be able to make any mess disappear. He was something close to a superhero, some proud part of his mind told him. It was lame and dorky, he knew. Yet, at the same time, he really didn't care.

He decided to start with the kitchen, as it had been the main eating room during the party, thus making it the messiest. Just as he was slipping on his yellow, rubber, cleaning gloves, Chandie walked in on his moment.

She gave him an odd look. "Whatcha doin'? You have cleaning supplies out and a giddy smile on your face. I do not comprehend," she mused. "How can these two things ever possibly go together?"

"Just shut up and leave me to my moment," Monty said, unable to contain his smile. Nobody understood why cleaning gave him such a pleasure, and nobody ever would. He had accepted that fact a long time ago, though it still bothered him that people he had known for years like Chandie still insisted on questioning his strange fetish. "I thought you were heading home."

"I was still saying goodbye to Zoey and Richie. I think Phoenix already left as well, though I didn't actually see him leave." Monty noticed a sudden odd change in his friend's demeanor when she mentioned Phoenix's name. "You want some help?" she offered.

"No. You wouldn't know what you're doing, and you'd just mess it all up," Monty said with actual fear showing through in his voice.

"You okay there? I mean, I know you have your system and whatnot, but you . . . Well, you're _shaking_."

"I'm fine," Monty said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "And to prove it to you, I'll let you collect cups and throw them away."

"Oh, _goody_!" Chandie said sarcastically. "Lucky me. Thanks for _letting_ me do this."

"You're welcome," Monty said with a smirk. "Unless, of course, you don't want to. You can just go home if you really want. I'm not going to force you to do all this cleaning on your _birthday_."

"I'm not falling for that," Chandie said, pointing an accusing finger at her friend.

"Falling for what?"

"Reverse psychology," Chandie said slowly, carefully enunciating each syllable.

"You're insane, Chan," Monty remarked. "Either help me clean or not, I really don't care. With the prior, I get to talk to my friend, which is nice. With the latter, however, I get to clean on my _own_, which is nice, too." He smiled. "Your choice."

"Fine. I'll clean with you," she muttered, still making it sound like she was being forced to make the decision. "I would feel bad abandoning you with my own mess, anyway. You've done so much for this party already."

"Thanks." Monty's smile grew broader. "Though, it really wasn't _that_ much work. I kind of enjoyed it."

"_Kind of?_ Don't think I don't know you, Monty," Chandie said with a smirk. "I know your enjoyment level was more than a 'kind of'."

"I know some things about you, too, Chan," Monty countered. "Like the fact that you haven't picked up a single cup yet. Either get on with it or get _out_."

At that statement, Chandie immediately grabbed hold of the nearest red, plastic, party cup and lifted it off the counter. "There. Happy?"

"Very much so, yes," Monty said. "Now for the next step. I'll explain it _slowly_ because it's a bit more complicated than the last." She slowed down her speech to such a degree that it took several seconds to get the four words out. "_Throw_. The _cup_. _Away_."

Chandie tossed the cup easily into the trashcan from across the room. "What's next?"

"Lather, rinse, repeat," Monty said simply.

"Okay. But what brand of shampoo do you have? I'm very picky," Chandie mused.

Monty finally allowed himself to laugh. He had been trying so hard to keep their goofy conversation sounding serious, but the more laughter he held in, the harder it became to _keep_ holding it all in.

"When we're together," Chandie began, "we can be very . . . _interesting_, to say the least."

"Yeah," Monty agreed in a quiet voice, and as he was saying that one simple word, something was happening. His eyes met hers. Blue gazed into blue. It was the first time it had registered to Monty that he and Chandie had the same color eyes. Something suddenly changed between them. They were no longer joking around and teasing each other. Now, they were each just standing there, staring deeply at the other's face. It was a quiet moment, a peaceful one. There was something so positively lovely about just standing there and staring.

The quiet, peaceful moment was soon interrupted by a voice. Monty couldn't place it at first. It seemed so out of place, something was just not right about it.

"Hello, my friends." Phoenix. It was Phoenix's voice. But there was something . . . _different_ about it. He sounded happy. No, not happy. That was an understatement. His voice showed over-joyousness. He almost sounded high.

Monty and Chandie whipped their heads in unison toward the voice. Monty was taken severely aback by the mere appearance of his friend. Upon Phoenix's head lay one of Zoey's birthday cone hats. On it, written in thick black marker, were three lovely words:

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BITCHES!**

That was about the sanest part of Phoenix's getup. He wore a jacket which was clearly put on backwards. It was bright pink, a color that was completely out of character to Phoenix. His pants were neon green, and his hair was atrocious. For a boy, he had fairly long hair, which allowed him to do whatever he had done to it that made it stick up the way it did now. The mess of blond hair stuck out in all directions, like stiff spikes threatening to jab anyone who came near. He also wore mismatched shoes—one being a sneaker, where the other was a beach sandal—and whimsically-designed socks on both feet.

Amazingly, it was not one of _these_ things that planted the wild look of utter confusion on Monty's face. It was the guitar strapped around the boy's body. Phoenix didn't play guitar; Monty knew that much.

Phoenix seemed to notice the odd looks he was receiving, proving that he still held _some_ amount of sanity left in that corrupted brain of his. "Like the outfit? Yeah, I picked it out myself."

Chandie was the first to reply. "Are you . . . ? Are you _stoned_?"

"No. I'm just creative," Phoenix said with a smile. "And _definitely_ not sad anymore." He giggled. Actually _giggled_. It wasn't a laugh; it wasn't a chuckle. It was a _giggle_.

"Good for you?" Chandie replied, though it sounded more like a question than a congratulatory message, like she wasn't sure how to appropriately respond, and Monty could perfectly understand why.

Now it was Monty's turn to speak. "Since when do you play guitar?"

"Since today." He picked up the guitar and held it completely wrong, his hands not even close to where they were supposed to be. Monty wasn't a guitarist, though even _he_ could figure out something was very wrong about Phoenix's hand positioning. He had his left arm wrapped around the neck of the guitar, and his right hand was lined up for chords that didn't even exist. He began to strum, looking and sounding like he had absolutely no idea what he was doing, which was most likely the reality of the situation.

Then came the singing.

* * *

_I know it was a bit of an odd way to end a chapter, but the reason I ended on that line is for a couple reasons. First, I have to write some lyrics. I didn't want to delay posting this chapter because I have to write some strange song. Second, I feel almost as if this works as a cliffhanger. You guys will have to wait until my next update to get to see the lyrics to the song._

_I also have a small announcement. I'm considering beginning another Friends fanfiction story called "The Truth Behind Eddie Menuek". I plan for it to be a fairly short story which explains why Eddie—one of Chandler's roommates during the run of the show—seems to be so dark and psychotic. If I were to write this story, Transgendered Past's updates may begin to come a bit slower, though I don't plan to update The Truth Behind Eddie Menuek nearly as often as I update this story. Feedback on whether this would be a good idea or not will be much appreciated._

_The last thing I want to mention is something that I was wondering if anybody has noticed. Before and after every chapter, you can see that I have an italicized section of me speaking directly to you readers—like now. What you may not have noticed is that I always find a way to end each chapter with one of my "signature" winky faces._

_I was just wondering if anybody noticed. If you did, you probably have a pretty good eye. ;)_


	6. Chapter Six

_Glad to hear you like it, Dizuz. Don't worry—"Mondler" is coming soon. I really need to come up with my own couple names for my characters. "Mondler" doesn't exactly work for two characters named Monty and Chandie. If you have any ideas for couple names, please share them._

_Sorry for taking so long to update. It took me forever to think of something crazy for Phoenix to sing about. I'm not exactly the best songwriter in the world, considering I've never written a single song before._

_Also, just a heads-up: the song is terrible—absolutely terrible. Brace yourselves._

* * *

"Monty, Chandie," Phoenix addressed the both of them as he continued to mindlessly strum his guitar. "I'd love for you two to be the first to hear my first song: _Ode to a Staple_."

Chandie and Monty exchanged a nervous look. What had gotten into Phoenix? One minute, he had been sulking around the house like a sloth. Now, he was writing songs?

Monty interrupted her thoughts by whispering into her ear. "_Ode to a Staple_?"

Chandie simply shrugged in response. She figured they might as well give their friend's song a listen. What could it hurt?

"And _we'd_ love to hear it," Chandie said in delayed response to Phoenix's statement.

He smiled and began to sing.

_You're shiny and silver and come in a stack.  
When punched into papers, your stapler makes a "clickity-clack."_

Chandie's eyes widened. She figured, based on the title, the song would be strange, but this was just plain bad. The strumming of the guitar was completely off from the rhythm of the lyrics, Phoenix's singing was highly pitchy, and he seemed to be looking for any rhyme he could find, whether or not it made sense, the rhyming lines in question were even close to the same length, or if it sounded anywhere near good.

She decided to keep listening just in case she was making too quick of a judgment. Ignoring Monty's glares that told her he was not too happy with the current situation and wanted this song soon to come to an end, she plastered a fake smile on her face to convince Phoenix she was enjoying the sound. She noticed out of the corner of her eye Monty doing the same.

The singing continued.

_Without you, all papers would be separated.  
You are highly unappreciated.  
But from me, you are venerated._

Maybe she had _not_ been making too quick of a judgment, Chandie realized sadly. She did wonder what the word "venerated" meant and decided she would look it up later.

_In offices you can be found.  
In cubicles you are all around.  
You're probably made of steel, which I think is a compound._

Chandie had to glance at Monty on that last line. He shook his head. Steel was an alloy, which was a mixture, right?

The more important question was why Chandie was focusing on _that_ aspect of the song.

It was at this point that Phoenix's singing began to slow down dramatically, initiating—Chandie hoped—the end of the song.

_When you enter paper, you do that folding maneuver._

His singing was now slowed to such a degree that it took several long seconds to get out the very last painfully pitchy line.

_When it goes wrong, you are removed with a staple-remover._

He smiled broadly with self-pride and finally let go of the guitar after giving it two hard strums. Looking up at his two-person audience, he gave them both a quizzical look. "What do you think?"

Another glance at the boy next to her told Chandie that she would be the first to speak. Monty looked plain speechless.

"That was . . . _wow_," Chandie said, smiling what she could only hope did not appear to be a sarcastic smile at her crazy-looking friend.

"You really liked it?" Phoenix's eyes lit up with anticipation at Chandie's upcoming response.

"It was _interesting_," Chandie replied, unable to say it was good because she couldn't manage to lie to her friend's face, but at the same time not able to say it was bad either. Luckily for her, Phoenix seemed to take it as a compliment.

"Thank you," he said. "Thank you _so_ much! You have _no_ idea how great that felt, the _writing_ and the _singing_. And you, Monty, what did _you_ think?"

"Oh, _me_?" he asked nervously. Phoenix nodded. "I—I liked it. No, not like. I _loved_ it," he corrected.

Sure, Chandie couldn't lie. Sure, Monty _could_. But he was still _terrible_ at it. Despite that fact, however, Phoenix believed him.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he said quickly. "You guys really have no idea how much better I feel now than I did earlier today. This day really _is_ great. Happy birthday, Chan."

Monty had a concerned look on his face. He glanced at Chandie for a moment before his eyes quickly darted back to Phoenix. "What happened earlier today?"

"Noth—nothing," Phoenix stuttered, glancing repetitively back and forth between Chandie and Monty. "I just mean, uh . . ." His voice trailed off, obligating Chandie to fill in for him.

"What Phoenix meant is that he not only felt good _earlier_, but he's feeling even better _now_." Chandie took at quick glance at a relieved Phoenix. "So, basically, it's been a pretty good day." She smiled to try and prove her point.

"Oh," Monty said in a brighter tone. "Good. I'm glad _you're_ glad, Phoenix."

"_I'm_ glad you're glad I'm glad," Phoenix mused.

"And I'm glad you're glad I'm—"

"_Please_ don't do this," Chandie interrupted, making both boys laugh.

Phoenix looked down at his wrist as if there was a watch there. Chandie could clearly see there was not one, but Monty wasn't really paying all that much attention to _Phoenix_ at the moment.

"Well, I should be going," Phoenix said. "My—uh—my parents are probably waiting for me to get home."

Chandie gave her friend a sad look, carefully directed so that Monty would not see.

"Okay," Monty said, looking up at Phoenix and smiling. It made Chandie sad to see Phoenix lying and Monty so unaware of the situation. "See you at the pizza palace tomorrow?" It sounded more like a question to Chandie. Tomorrow would be the weekend, and the group didn't always go to the pizza palace on Saturdays and Sundays, as they generally headed there after school.

"I'm not sure," Phoenix said with the slightest pain in his expression that only Chandie would take note of. "My—my dad planned for us to go to a movie tomorrow, but something, um, came up." He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. "So, I'm not sure at this point whether the plan is still on or not. My best guess is no."

Chandie gently laid her hand on Phoenix's shoulder. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see," she said quietly. She removed her hand when Phoenix began to head out of the room. Before he left, he turned around to face Chandie, locking eyes with his friend.

"Happy birthday." With that, he spun on his heel and exited the room. Chandie soon heard the front door to the house open and close, signaling that he had officially left.

Before either Chandie or Monty could speak, there was another sound of a door opening. Into the kitchen came Monty's father. He noticed Chandie there and spoke. "Oh. You're still here. Sorry about that, Monty. I thought everyone was already gone."

Chandie looked at Monty, confused.

Sensing her confusion, Monty explained. "I made a deal with my parents that they would stay out of the party until it was over. I decided I wanted to run it all by myself."

"Oh. I _guess_ that makes . . . sense," Chandie said awkwardly. "I was just about to head home anyway."

"Oh. Okay," Monty said, looking almost the tiniest bit sad. "See you tomorrow or Monday or whenever. Happy birthday."

"You too." She paused. "I mean the 'see you' part, not the 'happy birthday' part. It's _my_ birthday, not _yours_."

Monty laughed—what a wonderful sound. Chandie loved knowing that she could make people laugh, even if it was purely through how dorky and awkward she could act at times. Laughter was what fueled her. It was the very reason for her existence. She was put on this planet to make people laugh, her five best friends especially.

Chandie headed out of the kitchen and into the living room. She approached the front door, and, as she opened it, she heard a voice speaking. It was Monty's father. It was hard it tell what he was saying, so Chandie strained to hear, unsure why she so badly wanted to know what this man was saying. She had heard on several occasions, from both Rose and Monty—and even Richie at times—of how brutal Monty's father could be to the boy. Maybe _that_ was why Chandie was listening—to become that primary source and see first-hand just how brutal this man really was. She closed the front door to make it sound as if she had left.

"Monty, why is this room such a _mess_?"

Chandie heard the loud accusation almost immediately after shutting the door, proving that Monty's father had been waiting for the house to be cleared out before yelling at his son.

"I haven't had a chance to clean it yet," Monty said simply and respectfully. "I—I was just about to start."

Chandie let out a silent sigh. That had to be reason enough.

"You could have been cleaning while you were talking to the boy with the horrible singing voice and your girlfriend," he countered.

Chandie was taken aback by that statement. Did she seem like Monty's girlfriend? She wasn't sure whether that would be a good or bad thing.

"She's not my girlfriend!" Monty shouted defensively.

"If that's true, then you better be getting one soon. _Rose_ has a boyfriend."

"Rose is almost a year older than me!"

"She's been with Carl for well over a year now, almost two. They seem very serious."

Monty let out a loud, frustrated breath. "Why are you so concerned with my love life anyway?"

"Well, _you_ obviously aren't worried about it," he answered bitterly.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" Monty questioned, sounding very much offended.

It was at this point that Chandie began to feel as though she was intruding. She reopened the front door slowly and carefully, trying her best to keep it quiet. She froze, however, at the next words that came out of Monty's father's mouth.

"I'm just saying, you aren't even _trying_ to get girls to like you."

That statement made Chandie almost want to run back into the kitchen, slap that man across the face, and tell him that Monty was a wonderful boy, that he should stop being so tough on him—that _she_ liked Monty. Chandie finally allowed himself to accept that fact: she liked Monty. She had tried so hard not to develop a crush on her friend, but it was hard. Monty was just so . . . great. Chandie smiled inwardly just at the thought of them together.

Grabbing the doorknob from the other side, she stepped outside and eased the door shut.

* * *

_Finally! Crazy, fun, flaky Phoenix and Chandie/Monty. I've been waiting so long for this. This stuff is pretty darn fun to write about. I can't wait to bring Chandie and Monty a little closer._

_Once again, if any couple names come to mind—not just for Monty and Chandie, but for any combination you can think of—I would love to hear them._

_I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. I doubt you guys enjoyed the song though. It was my first crazy song, so I honestly wasn't expecting it to turn out very well. Maybe I'll write more songs for Phoenix throughout this story and improve my crazy-song-writing ability. ;)_


	7. Chapter Seven

_Yay! A different person reviewed!_

_Not that I don't still love you, Dizuz. Seriously: you are awesome._

_Don't get me wrong. I love both MrsAvanJogia and Jinrebust for their reviews, too. It's just—how can I not love the person who has made sure that each and every chapter of this story so far has had a review?_

_Just to clarify: when I say I love you guys, I mean that in the least creepy way possible._

_I'm doing something a little different with this chapter, which involves the switching of perspectives. In all six chapters before this one, I've kept the entire chapter true to the perspective of one character and one character alone. For example, Chapter One was from the point of view of Chandie. All events and thoughts came through Chandie's eyes and Chandie's brain and how Chandie saw things._

_In this chapter, however, I'm going to keep the time focused on one event and from one perspective short at a time, switching between perspectives. I find this way more fun to write and better for when more than one big event is happening at once. I also find it good for the sake of suspense in the more dramatic scenes._

_I hope you guys enjoy!_

* * *

Chandie walked at a brisk pace through the cold, windy air. Phoenix's song—_Ode to a Staple_—ran through her head. It was a fairly short song, repeating over and over again throughout the walk that was something less than lengthy.

_You're shiny and silver and come in a stack.  
When punched into papers, your stapler makes a "clickity-clack."  
Without you, all papers would be separated.  
You are highly unappreciated.  
But from me, you are venerated.  
In offices you can be found.  
In cubicles you are all around.  
You're probably made of steel, which I think is a compound.  
When you enter paper, you do that folding maneuver.  
When it goes wrong, you are removed with a staple-remover._

Chandie was positive the song would be stuck in her head for quite a while. The more she listened to it, though, the more she began to like it. Sure, it was strange, random, and just plain bad—but her friend wrote it. Even if she tried, she wouldn't be able to get the image of Phoenix's happy face from when he had been singing his composition out of her head. Seeing that this song made him so happy made it impossible for Chandie to hate it. There was too much positive connection with the lyrics and the random guitar strumming that was now in her head.

The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that she loved this song. It was amazing how quickly her opinion had changed—within minutes transforming from hating it to minding it to liking it to loving it. _Ode to a Staple_ was suddenly becoming her new favorite song.

* * *

Rose was sitting on the edge of her bed, trying to decide what to do. She didn't have any homework to work on, and she really wasn't in the mood for reading a book—which was unusual for her. Overall, she was pretty much just bored. Nothing seemed to interest her at the moment, no matter what it was.

Her thoughts were soon interrupted with the sound of the phone ringing. Checking the caller ID, she saw it was her boyfriend Carl. She picked it up and pressed TALK.

"Hey, Carl," she greeted, happy to have someone to talk to and something to do.

"Hey," he replied. He sounded something less than happy.

"You okay? You sound nervous," Rose asked in a concerned tone.

"Honestly? No. I'm not okay," Carl replied. "I have some news . . . and I don't think you're going to like it."

* * *

Chandie continued walking through the cold with Phoenix's song running through her head. With every new word entering her mind, the lyrics became more interesting, the rhythm became catchier, and the singing became smoother.

It was an odd trick this song had on her brain. Just by having a positive connection with it, suddenly every aspect of the song was becoming much, much better in mind than in reality. Just by having that image of Phoenix so happy, so cheerful, so _ecstatic_ as she strummed and sang, _Ode to a Staple_ now sounded like the greatest tune in the world to Chandie.

Just as she was thinking about how happy Phoenix must be, her ever quickening pace of walking soon led her up to where the boy was now walking himself. He was moving much slower than his observer as he stared down at the ground. As Chandie grew closer, she was finally able to see the tiny drops of water dripping from the face of her friend and splashing down on the gray concrete below.

* * *

"Would you just stay out of my life?" Monty asked, one half of him hoping for an answer and the other half dreading what it might be if he actually received one.

"I can't just leave you to figure out your life for yourself," his father retorted, clear anger and frustration showing through in his voice. His fists clenched and his face turned a shade redder.

"Why not? It's _my_ life!" Monty shouted, immediately regretting doing so.

"Don't yell at me, _Montgomery_," he said sternly.

Full first name—that was a bad sign. Still, Monty knew he was fine until his father started using his _middle_ and _last_ names, too.

He soon continued, actually bothering to answer _one_ of Monty's questions. "The reason I feel so inclined to help you out with your life is because you've made it perfectly clear on several occasions that you very well could use the help."

"Would you stop saying that kind of stuff? I can take care of myself, dad," Monty defended himself.

"Obviously, that is not true."

"_Obviously_?" Monty questioned. "What's so '_obvious'_ about it?"

"Oh, just look at you!" He motioned with his hand toward his son.

Monty's eyes widened and his eyebrows rose. "Are you referring to my _weight_?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm. He did realize he had put on a few pounds after his most recent breakup, but it was not all that bad. "Because, just in case you've _forgotten_, last year I lost . . . a _large_ number of pounds." His face reddened in anger. How dare his father bring up such a sore subject? He remembered the Thanksgiving of that year all too well. It would forever be engraved into his mind as the day he cut off the tip of Chandie's left thumb.

It had been an accident, a purposeful accident, or an accidental purpose. Whatever it was, cutting off a limb had _not_ been Monty's intention—not even _close_. Sure, he had wanted harm to befall upon Chandie; however, he never would have wished for the girl to lose a part of a finger, especially not one as important as the thumb. From that day on, Chandie had been teased numerously by various students at Lincoln High—including Monty's sister and Chandie's own best friend, Rose—about her missing part.

That incident would forever haunt Monty's soul.

* * *

"What is it?" Rose asked with strong concern in her voice. She shifted around on her bed so that she now sat cross-legged.

"Okay. I'm just going to come right out and say it."

"Say what, Carl? What's wrong?" Rose held the phone close to her, gripping it as if loosening her hold would cause Carl to disappear off the face of the earth forever for him to never return.

"Please don't hate me," Carl pleaded with pure sadness in his tone.

"It would be easier not to hate you if you could just tell me what's wrong," Rose demanded, frustration leaking into her words. "You said you'd just come out and say it, so just come out and say it already."

"Rose, please calm down," Carl said through the phone. "If you're already this upset with me having not even told you the big news, then I'm not sure if I can tell you at all."

"No, no, no!" Rose said quickly, hoping Carl would hear her before hanging up if that was what he planned to do. "Please don't hang up. I'm sorry. Just . . . Stop with the suspense. Just tell me what's going on."

She listened intently as she heard the release of air of Carl taking a deep breath on the other end. It was when he finally spoke that Rose officially regretted encouraging him to say what was on his mind.

"Rose," he said slowly. "I'm gay."

* * *

_Remember when I mentioned that I would begin writing a story called "The Truth behind Eddie Menuek"? Well, that's going to be put on hold for a bit. Instead, I've decided to begin writing a different story._

_This story will be called something along the lines of "Second-Generation Mondler". This story will not actually contain any Mondler. However, it will be about Monica and Richard's daughter, Emma, and her relationship with Chandler and Kathy's son, Toby. I also will throw some other children into the story such as Rachel and Ross's Isabella, Emma's brother Daniel, Ross and Carol's Ben, and Phoebe and Mike's daughter Regina._

_Some of the children's names are obvious where they come from, though others I'll be explaining in the italicized section before the story begins. I would appreciate it if you guys could take a look at the story once I put it up._

_I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, and let me know if you like the switching-perspectives format. Also, any reviews on the idea of Second-Generation Mondler would be greatly appreciated. ;)_


	8. Chapter Eight

_Thanks for the reviews!_

_About the names I gave the characters: I do realize they aren't the best or the closest to their original names. However, there is still reason to why I chose each and every one of them._

_Some come from inside jokes, while others were simply chosen to avoid others. An example of the latter would be why I chose the name Zoey instead of Josie as Joey's female equivalent. I have a close friend named Josie, and I would have found it uncomfortable to write about a character of the same name._

_As to your name suggestions, I must admit—Chantel and Raphael sound way better than what I came up with. I especially love how similar Raphael looks to the name Rachel. And I, too, am not a fan of Richie. The reason I chose that name was simply because I could not think of anything better. To be honest, I was feeling quite lazy the day I came up with the six names. That day was long before the idea of this fanfiction even came to mind. Unfortunately, there really is no going back now, so the names will stay the way they are._

_As to the other guest (BiggestFriendsFan), I was unable to find your profile page. I tried searching on Google, but nothing came up due what I can only assume is you having no stories up as of yet. Hopefully, you will still be able to find this chapter without the PM._

_Last but not least, Dizuz: I love your reviews, as always. Yes, I know it was a little strange for Carl to come out to Rose over the phone, but it was the only way I could think of to make it work for the scene._

_Once again, thank you for the reviews. You would not believe how much I love reading them._

* * *

"You—you're _what_?" Rose stuttered, disbelieving.

"Gay," Carl said, this time much quieter than before—almost as if he were ashamed of it.

"Gay?" Rose echoed, considering the word. "As in: you like _guys_?"

"Yes," came Carl's simple reply.

"As in: you don't like _girls_?"

"Yes," he repeated.

"And since _I'm_ a girl, then that means . . . Then that means you . . . you don't like _me_."

There was a long pause before the answer finally came.

"Yes."

Still clinging to the tiniest, most desperate bit of hope left, Rose felt the next question necessary.

"'Yes' as in you _do_ or 'yes' as in you _don't_?"

"Rose—"

"Just answer the question," Rose interrupted, trying not to sound too angry.

"'Yes' as in . . . as in I love you."

Rose had to fight the urge to perk up at that statement. It sounded like Carl still had more to say.

"I will always love you, Rose. Just—just not in _that_ way. Not anymore. I'm sorry."

* * *

After the argument with his father, Monty had initially thought he wouldn't want to speak to anyone at the moment; however, he would now happily talk to the first person he saw. He contemplated going over to his sister's room. She, more than anyone, understood the strain between Monty and their father.

He walked over to her bedroom door and heard her speaking to someone, presumably over the phone. Monty couldn't make out any words. Deciding he shouldn't intrude, he turned to leave—but before he could, the door swung open.

"Monty?" Rose questioned, giving her brother a confused look.

"Is something wrong?" Monty asked when she noticed the pained expression on Rose's face.

She let out an exaggerated breath and replied. "Carl broke up with me."

"_What_?" Monty shouted in surprise. "Why would he do that? I thought . . . I thought you guys were . . ."

"I know," Rose said sadly. "Me too, but I understand his reason why. He's . . . Carl is gay." Her voice cracked with emotion.

Monty pulled his sister into a hug. "I'm so sorry," he whispered sincerely. He knew how much Rose loved her boyfriend. She had always seen a future with the boy. Most fifteen-year-olds couldn't say that about their relationships. And now she would be back among the majority. Even Monty himself had wanted them so badly to stay together forever. There had always been something so strong about their relationship; but now, whatever that strength was, it was gone.

* * *

Chandie immediately ran up to her friend. "Phoenix?" she said in a soft voice as she placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. When he didn't reply, didn't even look up or register Chandie being there, she continued. "Let's just head to my place. We'll set up the guest room for you to stay in," she suggested, hoping that the activity would take his mind off things, at least for a little while.

To Chandie's shock and joy, Phoenix wiped a tear away from his eye and nodded.

* * *

"Do you want some tea or something?" Monty asked, pure concern in his liquid-blue eyes.

"No. I think I'm just gonna go for a walk," Rose replied distraughtly.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, it's fine. I—I'd rather just be alone for a while."

"Oh. Okay." Monty stared down at his feet, making Rose feel a bit guilty for putting her brother in such a depressing mood.

Without another thought on the subject, however, she headed downstairs, grabbed her coat, and stepped out into the brisk cold.

* * *

After a long walk in dead silence, Chandie and Phoenix arrived at the prior's house. Though, to Phoenix, it was more of a _mansion_. He had always known his friend to be wealthy, but he'd had no idea she was filthy rich. He had to tilt his head back to see the top of the building that escalated far into the sky.

"You can give me the lecture on how I'm a spoiled little rich girl later," Chandie said, cutting into the silence. "But for now, let's head inside and figure out which room you'd like."

Phoenix's eyes widened. "You have _choices_? _Jeez_, Chan. How big _is_ your house?"

"Let's not start throwing around numbers, and we'll just leave it at _'big'_."

"Probably for the best," Phoenix agreed. He approached the front door, but not without taking another somber glance up at the building's pure monstrosity.

* * *

She didn't mind the bitter chill of a New York winter. She didn't mind the wind that whipped at her hair, blowing the dark strands into her eyes and blocking her line of sight. She didn't even mind the fact that instead of warm winter boots with socks, she had slipped on beach sandals, and now her feet were stiff and felt frozen.

She had lost all ability to mind anything anymore. It felt as if her heart had been ruthlessly ripped out of her chest, thrown violently to the ground, and stopped upon viciously. The analogy may have been a bit extreme with excessive adverb usage, but it was nonetheless how she felt at the moment.

As she walked, she began to approach Chandie's neighborhood. Rose didn't go over to her friend's house often due to complications concerning Chandie's family. However, the few times she _had_ visited were enough for Rose to able to recognize her surroundings.

Chandie's home soon came into view as Rose came within one hundred feet. Rose was more than a _bit_ shocked to spot not only Chandie—but _Phoenix_—entering the house. What was Phoenix doing here? Of any combination in their little six-person friendship circle, Phoenix and Chandie seemed to be the last pair Rose could picture hanging out together without the rest of the group.

Rose drew closer, halving the distance, just as the door shut behind the two.

* * *

Monty felt an unbelievable sadness for his sister at the moment. He had always loved seeing her with Carl. They made such a cute couple and would always look so happy together. To even think of them apart . . .

Monty covered up his sadness the only way he knew how—with food. He had evolved far from his days of obesity, but he still resolved to eating when his negative emotions became unbearable. Making his way downstairs, he found the snack table still loaded with plates and bowls full of greasy food—the exact junk food Monty would always carefully avoid to the best of his abilities. He could barely believe how many things were wrong with the current situation. The kitchen was still a mess, with him doing nothing about it. He was eating the worst food health-wise imaginable. And, to top it all off, Carl and Rose were no longer together.

Everything was not as it should be. Just minutes ago, everything had seemed so nice, so normal. Well, maybe "normal" wasn't the right word, but even so, life had been pretty darn good. Even with how crazy Phoenix had seemed, or the fact that Chandie had left, life had been significantly more appealing at five o' _seven_ than now, at five _nineteen_.

* * *

_Sorry for taking so long to release this chapter. It's just plain ridiculous how long this took for me to write. I really hope I never take this long again, though no promises now that I'm writing multiple stories at once. The past week had been a sad, busy one that didn't allow me much time to work on writing this. I make sure not to write while I'm depressed because it makes my writing get all . . . weird. I once made the mistake of writing while depressed, and I somehow wound up killing off all the characters. I do not know how that happened._

_On a lighter subject, you know how I keep saying that I'm going to begin writing another Friends fanfiction? Well, this time, I'm not lying. I even came up with yet another fanfiction idea, though I won't share it this time because I really don't want to jinx it like I did with the idea of writing a story about Eddie and one about second-generation Mondler. I actually already posted a second story. It's called New School. It's based off an interesting dream I had and includes some Mondler fun. I would love it if you guys could check it out and tell me how it is. ;)_


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